𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥 - TMR AU, Thomas

𝟢𝟤𝟪，𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

༺ TWENTY - EIGHT ༻

I'm nearly in tears as I'm dancing.

My chest hurts. There's no air coming through. But I've already asked for three breaks the previous hour, so I can't just do that again. I've seen Janson's annoyed face. But my legs also ache, and I struggle to not start shaking as Aris holds me up in the air.

"Okay!" Janson's voice is so sharp it makes me flinch. "Stop it. This isn't working."

With a lump in my throat, I finally inhale. It's not very comforting with the looks Janson is giving me, but at least I'm getting air.

"Rose, are you sick?"

I shake my head. "My, eh, low iron has been kicking in a lot these days."

His loud sigh makes me shrink. "Make it stop. I don't care how you do it, but just make sure you're able to dance properly or else I'll just ask Sarah to replace you."

Oh.

I nod, fast. "I will."

"And get new leggings and leotards. They don't even fit you."

"I will," I repeat. It surprises me that my voice is so steady.

Janson steps closer so he can lower his voice, my ears the only things allowed to hear his words. "You trust me, right?"

I nod. "I do."

Do I? I think so. I'll trust him until after the play, like Thomas told me to.

"Okay," he says quietly. "Then believe me when I tell you that if you don't do something about all this behavior, you will really be replaced."

My eyes widen. And again, I nod. So fast that it hurts. "Please don't take my role," I plead. It's so desperate, but I can't help it. "I promise I'll..." I swallow, trying to search the right words. "I'll do almost anything to keep it."

"Keep training. Also more at home. Manage to dance without this much breaks and be ready to shine at the play," he says, his mouth even closer to my ear. "You're my favorite, Rosalind. Don't disappoint me."

"I won't," I say.

Janson puts his hand in his pocket until he fishes a package out, then hands it to me. "Eat up. More energy, no bloating because it's so small."

I stare at the bar. Shake my head. "I don't think I can—"

Something in his face twitches. Some kind of anger. "When I tell you to lose weight, you're going to lose weight in a way that still makes you healthy. If I tell you to eat that bar, I'm hoping you will eat it. I don't want to lose you, Rosalind. You're my best ballerina and I can't afford more losses."

I didn't bring the laxatives. Vomiting no longer feels like it removes all the calories. "I'll gain weight," I say, my voice cracking. "I can't—"

"You can. You're gonna need to listen and trust me if you want to be that next star. If you want fans. I know what's good for you and right now you need something in your system before you freaking faint. I never told you to start starving yourself."

My bottom lip starts to shake. I can't help it. "But I eat," I say. "I'm not starving myself. I- I eat."

"Yeah, and what do you do after you ate?"

"It's usually just laxatives," I say fast. "So the food stays in my body but the calories are gone! I'm eating, I swear."

He sighs. It's a sigh of disappointment, and I can tell it's going to haunt me for a while. "I don't think it works that innocently, Rosalind. But whatever. Just eat this damn—"

There's a pull at my arm. "Sorry, Janson," Aris's voice. "But Henry tells us to repeat the first few steps of the dance."

I don't know if I should be relieved or not, but at least I don't have to eat the bar. It's almost like... like it passes my comfort zone to eat a shucking energy bar. The thought makes me uncomfortable, unless I have the laxatives.

"You alright?" Worried, Aris inspects me with his eyes.

I nod. "Fine. What did Henry want—"

"Nothing," he says.

"But you said—"

"I said that so Janson wouldn't continue hurting you," Aris corrects. "Come on, drink some water. Maybe you should eat at least—"

"I'll get my water bottle," I say fast, and make a little run to get it. I don't care if it bloats me right now, I just need my stomach to feel full. The illusion.

"You two, just go home and practice there," Henry tells us after he spoke some quiet words to Janson.

Aris sits down next to me. His eye catches something in my bag. Three seconds later, he got it in his hands. "You should take this."

Thomas's lunch box.

I smile. "I will. I eat it with Thomas at work. Leftovers." I hate myself. "But do you want some?"

He shakes his head. "No, thank you."

❤︎︎

"How was the cold lasagna?" Thomas asks once all the guests in the restaurant have what they want. We're free to talk for maybe two minutes before someone new walks in.

"Good," I lie, and it makes me want to sob. I hate throwing away food that I know Thomas did his best for. He's so worried and I'm just ruining it all. Before I know it, I might've ruined his trust in me.

He smiles brightly. "Amazing. Do you want something else to eat?"

"No, thanks."

After a noticing no one in the restaurant is really paying attention to these two servers in the corner, he places a quick kiss on my mouth. "I'm proud of you," he says.

He shouldn't have. The guilt is so much worse now.

But I smile at him. "Thank you."
He doesn't even deserve me at this point.
"How was hockey?"

"Alright. I almost slipped, but didn't get any memories," he explains, eyes twinkling.

"Awesome!" I peep. This time it's not a lie. I'm genuinely proud and happy for him. That it gets better every lesson.

Thomas leans closer to my ear. "You should tell your parents you're staying at Teresa's house tonight. I want to be with you. My parents aren't home."

Just the thought of finally spending a night with him cheers me up. "Definitely."

And he laughs, then disappears to guide the new guests.